


Then The Earth Broke

by sunaddicted



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2k18 [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Earthquakes, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Natural Disasters, No Man's Land (DCU), Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Smut, Trapped, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: [...]no matter how much they bickered and drove one another up the walls, they always found their way back to companionable silence - not quite friendship, not quite enmity.A gray inbetween, iridescent with varying shades: darker, lighter - veering from white to black at a dazzling speed, forever changing.Never settling.





	Then The Earth Broke

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited about Gotham using the "No man's land" storyline because it's one of my favourites!
> 
> In this fic I'm a little heavy-handed with a claustrophobic atmosphere, take care if it might bother you ♡

_Then The Earth Broke_

When the earthquake had shaken the whole city down to its foundations, making the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the Iceberg Lounge tremble and swing rather dangerously, Oswald hadn't thought twice about grabbing Edward and dragging him in the panic room in the basement, cleverly hidden behind a rack of wines that only the likes of Bruce Wayne could afford, leaving the watered-down and overpriced drinks to the masses.  

It was the dream of any paranoid soul in Gotham, a real bunker like the ones teachers droned on about when they talked about various dictators and their plan B: steel-reinforced concrete; a few millions of dollars worth of stashes of canned food, meds for any kind of ailment, emergency generators and batteries; a small bathroom with running water, hooked up to an underground stream that never in its course saw the surface of the earth; a reasonably comfortable bed; a small but functional electric kitchenette; a satellite phone; enough weapons to survive a zombie apocalypse - and, yes, he had factored that in (people coming back from the dead with a few screws loose wasn't exactly unheard of in Gotham).

Everything considered, Oswald could have easily survived an atomic bomb being dropped directly over the city so, he really didn't consider his paranoia a character flaw.  

 _More of a cockroach than a penguin_ \- as Edward had once stated, in the gaping belly of the Court of Owls.  

“This is..”

“Magnificent, I know” it only lacked alcohol but when he had planned the room, being drunk while in a situation of emergency and closed off from the world hadn't seemed a great idea.

“I was going to say over the top”

Clearly, he hadn't factored in the possibility of ending up locked in there with Edward Nygma of all people; no one like the other man made Oswald wish for a drink “Well, it has probably saved your ungrateful ass” he sighed, letting himself fall on the edge of the mattress: running hadn't exactly done his bad leg any good.  

Edward only hummed in response - something about the intonation perfectly conveying an unspilled ‘if you say so’ - and started snooping around, cataloguing everything in startlingly clear detail.  

The wonders of a broken down but still brilliant mind.

If he had to be completely honest, the underground apartment really was impressive - but since honesty wasn't their thing (not since Oswald had selfishly killed Isabella and lied to his face about it), Edward didn't have to admit anything: it filled his stomach with warmth.  

“Is it sealed?” He inquired, knuckles rapping on the door that reminded him of the one of the caveau of the bank he had robbed just the other night - the reason why he had been at the Lounge to begin with: there were plenty of thieves in Gotham and to really make money out of it, one had to sell to the right buyer.

And whatever passed through the Penguin's fingers triplicated its valour.  

Oswald shook his head “Not yet” he gave a sharp nod towards a panel in the wall next to the bed, displaying several buttons “But we can easily seal it any time we want” they were the only ones who had control on their fates, no one from the outside had any power above them “We wait. Later we'll use the satellite phone and call to check what has happened and decide what to do next from there, with more accurate information on hand”

Clearly thought out.  

Clever.  

Edward couldn't not approve of the plan.  

And even if he didn't like the idea of being caged for the foreseeable future, there were worst people he could have ended up locked up with: for starters, they didn’t want to kill each other; no matter how much they bickered and drove one another up the walls, they always found their way back to companionable silence - not quite friendship, not quite enmity.

A gray inbetween, iridescent with varying shades: darker, lighter - veering from white to black at a dazzling speed, forever changing.

Never settling.

Edward supposed that was another reason why he could never settle upon what really Oswald was to him: the other man kept him interested and entertained. He _knew_ him - he knew his depths, hiding in the shadows a core of iron and tenderness - but he couldn't predict what he would do, read his thoughts: Oswald was like a puzzle that changed its configuration as soon as he thought he had figured out the way to open him up.  

“There isn't much in terms of entertainment down here” Edward pointed out, walking up to Oswald to stand in front of him; there still was the bathroom to explore but he figured that it could keep until later, when boredom would inevitably get to him: staticity was something he never had dealt with too well.

Oswald tilted his head up to look the other man in the eye, a small huff leaving his lips “So sorry, I'll pencil the complaint down and make sure to solve the issue when I renovate the locals” he teased before a wave of tiredness enveloped him, adrenaline levels crashing and making the bed appear more inviting by the minute “Eat, have a shower.. I need to take a nap”

“Rude” Edward scowled but knelt down to help Oswald's clumsy fingers untie the laces of his brogues and slipped them off of his feet; Edward cradled the damaged ankle in his hands, feeling the scars throb and burn against his skin in a way that made him grimace with sympathy: in no way it wasn't hurting like hell “You can't leave me alone to pace this cage while you beatifically sleep”

“I can and I will” Oswald pointed out, defiant.

Self-assured.

Edward watched like a hawk the other man shed his layers: jacket, waistcoat, tie - expensive fabrics whispering like feathers rustling in the wind.

It was mesmerizing.

“You can always nap with me” Oswald proposed, snapping the suspenders off the hem of his trousers.

The other's fingers danced over the pearly row of buttons of his shirt, teasing.

Napping was the farthest thing from what Edward had in mind at that moment, as he looked down into Oswald's blue eyes, shining like lapis lazuli - daring, behind the tiredness and pain clouding them - and felt desire stir in his stomach, a kaleidoscope of butterflies stretching their wings in his insides.  

It wasn't the first time he had subtly been offered the temptation of Oswald's flesh, the chance to penetrate under the layers instead of just watching him fold them in a neat pile - the possibility to get under his skin and stay there to fester, a parasitic presence settling in his marrow.

It wasn't the first time he would give in, either. Because Edward was terrified that once he had had a taste of what Oswald was offering, he would find himself irreparably addicted - trapped in invisible coils that would only tighten their grip and never loosen it.  

“Do you have a change of clothes down here?”

Just like that, the tension was broken - the possibilities thrown to the wind. Suddenly business-like, Oswald unbuttoned his shirt and shucked off his trousers - acknowledging a refusal that had been just as subtle as his offer. Like always.  

His teeth ached with the politeness they suffocated their desires in: Oswald knew the attraction wasn't one sided, could see its tide rise in dusty pinks and pale reds under Edward's cheeks - it was enough to encourage him to try, time and time again.  

Oswald stood with his clothes bundled in his arms, and circumnavigated the other man instead of pressing himself into him, trampled on the need to mash their bones together and disappear in Edward's ribcage, make it his home.

If Edward wanted him, he'd have to reach over, meet him halfway and be just as responsible as he was for what could happen between them.  Oswald refused to do all the work: the last time he had, it had taken a war to force them back together and rebuild themselves up to an equal standing.  

“Let me see if there's anything that will fit you”

Edward followed, folding Oswald's clothes when the other man dumped them on a chair so that he could root around in a cupboard. The disappointment that filled him when Oswald slipped in a pair of silky pyjamas was indescribable but Edward skilfully hid it, leaving only a pleasant smile plastered on his face for the other man to take in when he turned around “Thank you”

“You'll have to sleep in your boxers. That sweater already is going to be tight on you, I doubt that you would fit in any of my trousers” Oswald shrugged: feeling Edward's long legs wrapped around his own, when they would inevitably huddle for warmth under the covers, wasn't going to be exactly a hardship.

He watched Edward change from the bed, quick and economic - so different from the nervous energy pervading his body when he was performing on Gotham's stage.

Thief.

Murderer.  

Riddler.

* * *

“Aftershocks" Edward murmured in the dark; there was no need to check whether Oswald was awake too, pressed as close as they were “Their intensity should progressively diminish” unless they were the prelude to another earthquake; he regretted not paying too much attention to geology classes, the only one of the sciences that had never quite managed to ensnare his attention and suck him in its world.  

Oswald nodded, eyes wide open even if he couldn't see anything because it was better than keeping them closed and focusing on the roaring that reverberated in the walls like the terrifying echo of a thunder that had struck too close.

“It's quite humbling, isn't it?”

Edward rambled only when he was nervous.  

Oswald moved his hand from his own stomach and put it on the other's thigh: quiet comfort, hidden under the covers - something they could both deny ever happening if they so wished.  

Edward twitched, licked his lips “No matter how much chaos and destruction we inflict upon the city, we'll never best nature at its worst”

“I think mankind has tried its damn hardest with the atomic bomb”

“True” Edward chuckled, relaxed under the soothing swipes of Oswald's thumb on his naked skin.  He could still feel the vibrations in his bones but he couldn't quite tell whether it was just nervous energy coiled in the springs of his body or the earth still trembling “Do you think the lights would work, if I tried to turn them on?”

“I don't know” Oswald wasn't too worried, he knew his refuge was prepared for that evenience too: anything electrical could be powered by batteries too and he had plenty of those around.

Silence settled between them, as thick as the darkness they were immersed in: it was like drowning in ink, Edward could almost feel it slip down his throat - a viscous liquid filling up the most cavities of his body, blackening out his lungs.  

Choking him.  

He bit down on his lower lip until he tasted blood instead of ink, trying to keep a scream in.

Even then, he still wanted to taste the other man's mouth - terror only stoking the arousal that Oswald had evoked in him.

Oswald could feel Edward's ribcage tremble against his own “What's wrong?”

“I feel entombed”

“Are you claustrophobic, Ed?” He wasn't a fan of small and dark places either but, really, who was?

“It just… brings back bad memories”

Of monsters living right under the sun, posing as angels and chasing their preys into the dark to feast upon them without losing face.

At least, he had never played a part.

Neither did Oswald.

They still were monsters but a better kind than the one Edward had become intimately acquainted to during his childhood, when he still had been a harmless chrysalis - hadn't bloomed into a venomous butterfly yet, unfurled his wings dusted with poison.

“Leave it for now” Oswald murmured, hand moving higher - purposefully distracting at the edge of the other's briefs “Aftershocks can come close one after the other: even if the lights didn't work, it wouldn't be safe for either of us to get up now and solve the issue”

If there was something Edward hated, it was when his beloved logic was used against him. He turned on his side, facing Oswald, one hand gently reaching out to learn the position of the other's body - he had never been in company during his nightmarish punishments, the thought settled him a little. 

Oswald shivered when Edward's hand ghosted over his face “Try not to poke an eye out”

A huff of breath caressed his face - annoyed by his remark.

Amused.  

When had Edward come so close?

“I never would”

“Too pretty to damage?” Oswald murmured, only half-joking: he was a self conscious man, which meant that he was as extremely aware of his features of interests as much of his flaws - there was a reason why he almost religiously used eyeliner.  

Edward hummed, fanning his fingers across Oswald's cheek “I never settled on a colour” he admitted “Are they green? Blue? A mix of the two?”

“If it's of any help, my ID says that they're green”

“Inadequate descriptor”

“It's your favourite colour” Oswald pointed out.

Edward scoffed - as if he hadn't noticed that the first time he had looked in them a little too deeply, confused by his own interest: one usually didn't fawn over their best friend's eyes, did they?

Neither did enemies, for that matter.  

“They definitely were blue, earlier”

 _Earlier._  When he had looked up at Edward with invitation written all over his face; Oswald flushed at the memory: it was easy being eager in the heat of the moment, Edward never even verbalized recognition of his attempts - until that moment.  

Oswald could smell the change in the air, feel it prickling on his skin even under the silk of his pyjamas and when Edward closed the gap and _kissed him_ \- god, he was kissing him: it wasn't a fantasy - Oswald desperately wished that Edward had chosen another moment to let go of whatever block had been holding him back. So, when the other man pushed closer - hands greedy, craving, fluttering, frantic - Oswald leaned away “Not now”

“ _What?_ ” Edward was bewildered: after everything, Oswald backed out at the crowning moment of their dance?

He must have heard wrong.

“No" Oswald put a finger on Edward's mouth when the other man tried to resume kissing “You're upset: I'm not going to take advantage of you”

“You're coddling me” he answered, scandalized “I'm a grown man”

“And if you still want to do this once we have the lights on and you're not half-panicking, we can resume right at this point”

Edward analysed the quality of Oswald's voice, the stern edge of it “You're quite set on this”

Oswald nodded seriously “I am” he wanted him - had wanted him for longer than he cared to remember - but he wasn't going to let himself be Edward's lover, only for guilt and regret to stain the memory of the experience “Settle down again, let's go to sleep - I'll hold you”

As fair as bargains went, Edward knew he could have done much worse. Sighing, he turned around and pushed his arched back against Oswald's chest - let himself be embraced in the dark to keep the monsters at bay.

* * *

A kiss and he was hooked - just as Edward had predicted.  

As soon as they had woken up and turned on the lights - they worked, but Oswald had given him a pocket flashlight anyway and Edward was ridiculously grateful for it - he hadn't been able to focus on anything else but the other's mouth, the sliver of skin revealed by the billowing shirt of his pyjamas, the ruffled mess of his hair, the shadow of stubble on his jaw.

He had unashamedly stared throughout breakfast - tea, a couple of chocolate biscuits and canned peaches.

He had kept staring as they shared the sink and shaved together - the straight razor caressing his skin without tearing it open, graceful and surgical in its perfection.

He hadn't stopped even when Oswald slipped in the shower, shamelessly spying on him: the glass walls were clear instead of being blurred as usual, only suds and splashes of water hindered his sight - naked skin and soft flesh that was _begging_ to be marked.  

Edward would swear he had _heard_ the noise of his control snapping like an elastic band stretched too thin; he undressed - haphazardly, throwing his clothes to the ground in a sad heap of fabric - and slipped in the shower box, arms closing around Oswald's body and drawing him close.

He was so hard and the other man felt so good - so warm and welcoming, body pleasantly pliant.

He wouldn't be denied again.

“Ed..”

“You said that we could resume from where we stopped yesterday” Edward reminded him, giving a sharp nip to his lobe “What is it now?” He asked, irritated - years of tension brought to the surface turning his voice into a dark drawl.

“I'm afraid of slipping on the wet floor” Oswald admitted, tilting his head to the side to bring attention to the railing he had had installed along the walls “My leg..” Oswald shrugged; he didn't like bringing attention to his bad leg but sex in the shower didn't really seem like the smartest thing to do - especially considering that they were sort of in an emergency situation and couldn't exactly ride to a hospital if he broke something.

Edward softened his grip: that wasn't a no “Let's finish washing up, then”

“Thank you”

“Don't mention it” he wasn't that much of a rotten person.

They washed each other with tenderness, familiar with one another's bodies despite the fact that it was the first time they showered together; they intimately knew each other without effort, their hands gliding over skin they only had imagined.  

 _Soulmates_.

_Do you believe in fate?_

Oswald had never given him an answer.

“Do you believe in fate?” Edward asked, cheek nestled in the hollow between the other's neck and shoulder.

“My mother did"

“What about you?”

_Life gives you only one true love._

Oswald tilted his head to the side, lips finding Edward's forehead “I suppose I do” he answered in the end, looking inside of himself - peering in the depths festering in the corners of his lungs, nestled in the empty spaces between his ribs teeming with cackling vultures: he never had looked at someone else - if he couldn't have Edward, solitude would be his life companion.   

“Good” he finished working the conditioner in Oswald's hair “You should”

They rinsed quickly, suds swirling at their feet like a foamy wave; Oswald had never asked Edward if he liked going to the beach to tan or collect seashells after a swell, trousers rolled up and hair ruffled by the salty breeze.

There was only one towel, Oswald hadn't expected for the other man to crash his morning ablutions, but it didn't matter: Oswald dried himself first, then he relinquished the towel to the other man - it didn't really matter if their skin was still damp, their hair still dripping.

They were going to ruin the sheets anyway.

Edward pushed Oswald on the mattress and followed him as if they were magnets attracting one another: they could live apart but as soon as the minimum distance was broken, they couldn't fight against the attraction that pulled the flesh off of their bones. Oswald tasted of soap and water and minty toothpaste - a toxic grasshopper staining his lips and Edward devoured them, revelling in the fact that the other man kissed back with the same hunger as they pushed their hips together without finesse, arching up into the feeling of Oswald's nails sinking into the skin of his back.

Oswald bit along Edward's jaw, working his way down his neck. Licking at the skin until the bitterness of soap faded from his tongue and he found a flavour he couldn't exactly identify but knew to be Edward's - unadulterated and natural: he didn't think he could get even more turned on by the other man but his cock dribbled copious precum, smearing the hair on their bellies, slicking the way.

“I need you”

The words electrocuted Oswald's brain: to be needed - and by Edward of all people… “Me too” half-sobbed, half-moaned “I need you too” he threw his arm to the side, barely wincing when it collided with the edge of the bedside table, and wrenched the first drawer open; he didn't need to look to find what he was looking for: even in the aseptic bunker, Oswald had managed to reproduce an exact copy of his nightstand at the manor - an attempt at comfort.

Only one item was glaringly missing.  

An origami penguin.

Edward grabbed the tube of lube thrown at him, didn't ask why Oswald would bother stocking such a thing in a panic room and squeezed a generous dollop in his palm before he closed his hand around both of their cocks, stroking quickly - wanting more.

“Fuck me"

Brains buzzing at the same wavelength.

Edward nodded into Oswald's neck, parting his thighs with exploring fingers that tugged at his balls, rolled them in his palm and squeezed lightly, tearing a birdsong of moans and panting breaths from Oswald's throat. His fingers were still dripping - maybe the dollop of lube had been a little more than generous - and he brought them to the other's entrance, caressed the furled muscles “Relax for me" He murmured, demanding - biting at Oswald's collarbone.  

It was easier said than done when tension stemmed from arousal instead of nerves “Just..  start” Oswald pleaded, looping his good leg around Edward's waist in a pleading manner, the heel of his foot digging into the muscles of the other's thigh  “I'll relax, don't worry”

Edward was burning too hot to protest: he had to trust Oswald to know what he could handle, what he liked. And soon enough he had worked a finger inside of him, mercilessly thrusting it in and out until Oswald begged him for another.  And another “Are you ready?”

“Yes. Yes, please Ed”

It was a fire that burnt quickly to ashes, the air around them saturated with so much accumulated tension that neither of them did even think about drawing it out.  

Edward fucked him into the mattress without an ounce of control - raw power and desire and it made him feel so _wanted_ \- and Oswald held tightly onto him, their voices mixing up in a cacophony of noises that could only belong in the privacy of a bedroom, muted by thick walls. Warmth pooled inside him, Edward's hips stuttered against his own in a last spasm of ecstasy and he came in the other's fist, his name a distorted moan on Oswald's lips.  

_These violent delights have violent ends._

* * *

“You're leaving” Oswald stated as they surveyed the destruction the earthquake had caused upon the city from the entrance door of the Lounge, propped up against its frame.  

Edward had stopped being surprised by Oswald's ability to read his mind a long time before they even started building themselves up again “I am” he tilted his head to the side, studying the splashes of rusted blood around a fallen piece of concrete, a violet and green arm forever desperately reaching out - at least, until it didn't rot away or the rats had at it “You're staying”

Oswald shrugged “My club is still standing” he said, rapping his knuckles against the wall.

“In shambles”

“A fresh start” Oswald had had many of those; every time he had been pushed down from the top, he had worked his way up again - cleverer, stronger, crueler.  

Edward unfocused from the macabre spectacle and turned to look at Oswald “I'll come back, eventually” nobody ever really left Gotham.  

“I'll wait for you”

_  
_

**Author's Note:**

> I planned this way before 415 aired (what an episode) so, Edward and Oswald have a weird relationship that doesn't really fit with the declarations and displays of trust being thrown around.


End file.
